


Finish Line

by carma19



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/F, Pregnant Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 02:26:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17479457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carma19/pseuds/carma19
Summary: Beca's 3 days past her due date. Stacie offers a suggestion.





	Finish Line

“Did you _seriously_ blue turtle shell me _again_ , you asshole??” 

Stacie cackled into her headset mic. “You think I’m gonna take pity on you and let you win because you’re suffering, Mitchell?” 

“Screw you, dude,” Beca grumbled on the couch, slouching back into the cushion with a plastic snack bowl full of salted peanuts, cheddar popcorn, raisins, and M&Ms resting atop her mountainous belly housing two tenants three days past their lease expiration. Fucking squatters. Her swollen feet remained propped atop a pillow on the coffee table, and she removed her earphone cup from her left ear to listen for any signs of stirring from their three-year-old sleeping soundly upstairs. 

“No thanks,” Stacie replied breezily. “You’re hot and all, but I’m not into pregnant chicks.” 

Beca rolled her eyes despite Stacie not physically being present in her living room. Their weekly Mario Kart battles had been extra intense with Beca’s wacko hormones. “One more round? Chloe should be home soon.” 

“You’re on,” Stacie said, and Beca shoveled a handful of trail mix into her mouth as Stacie toggled through their share play screen to choose a level. “Where’d she go, anyway? It’s ten o’clock.” 

“She’s being the best wife and running to the store to get me some ice cream.” Beca wiped her hand on her oversized faded old band t-shirt (one of three that managed to mostly cover her belly) before picking up her controller again. “If you choose Rainbow Road again I’ll fucking murder you.”

“Wow, okay then, rage queen.” Stacie, choosing to live another day, did not choose Rainbow Road. “ _Someone_ needs to get laid.”

Beca snorted. “More like I needed these babies out of me a month ago. Jesus.” She didn’t think twice as she selected Bowser. (Beca’s _always_ Bowser, for the record.) “Figures they inherited my fashionably late gene.” 

Stacie chose Waluigi, her usual pick, though sometimes she liked to change it up. “Tell Chloe to bang those babies out of you.” 

Another groan passed Beca’s lips. “Shut up, Stace.” 

“I’m serious!” Stacie laughed. “Orgasms can induce labor.”

“That’s a straight up lie that dudes tell chicks to let them fuck them late in their pregnancy,” Beca said. “Y’know, kinda like how they say their jizz has a magical protein that whitens your teeth.”

“Wait, you mean it _doesn’t_ have a protein that whitens your teeth?? What’d I waste my time giving all those BJ’s for??” She laughed again. “And the labor-inducing thing is totally true! It worked for me!” 

“Still calling bullshit on that.” Beca’s eyes narrowed and she focused fully on the 55 inch flat screen mounted above their mantle, her scrunched Serious Gaming Face in full effect. (Chloe teased her mercilessly about it whenever she gamed. She couldn’t help it, okay? Video games were serious business.) She waited until they were halfway through the lap before she responded. “I mean, even if you were right… but you’re not--”

She could practically _hear_ Stacie’s shit-eating grin. “Uh huh. You wanna put some money or something on this, Mitchell?”

Beca considered as she activated the rainbow star to make her Bowser invincible. She and Stacie had been proposing and committing to dumbass bets ever since they became friends. She only usually committed when she was pretty damn sure she was right, and in this case… she was right. 

Stacie encouraged her on the beat of silence. “Give it a shot. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Fine. I’ll try it if Chloe wants. Moving in general isn’t exactly easy for me these days, y’know. I waddle like a fucking penguin and that’s not exactly sexy.”

“Chloe Beale thought you were sexy with gothy eyeliner and that grouchy pirate scowl you wore for the entire first year she knew you. Want me to text her and tell her to get on that when she gets home?”

“She’s my wife, Stacie. Pretty sure I can ask her myself.” 

“Ask me what??” 

Beca hadn’t heard the door thanks to the screeching of Bowser’s tires but she caught her wife’s adoring grin and question as she bustled into the room in her yoga pants and a slouchy off-the-shoulder sweater, a reusable shopping bag in her hand that she placed atop the coffee table. “One sec, baby,” Beca said, leaning into her final lap turn. 

Chloe gently lowered herself onto the couch beside Beca and gingerly plucked the bowl of trail mix precariously balanced on Beca’s belly before it tipped over, resting it on the coffee table instead. 

“Conrad, I swear to god if you fling that fucking banana peel--nononono---HA! Suck it! Suck ittttt!” She’d gotten third place, but Stacie got fourth. So Beca considered that a win. 

“Shhhh,” Chloe chuckled and tugged one headphone cup away, smoothing her fingertips over the shell of Beca’s ear as she settled her free hand over Beca’s stomach. “Please don’t wake Carter.”

“Sorry,” Beca whispered to Chloe with an apologetic nose wrinkle, setting her controller aside. “Okay, Stace. Gotta go.”

“Go get laid, mama! If I'm right, I'm choosing your next tat!!” Stacie said--muffled but clear enough for Chloe to hear through the displaced headphone cup. 

“Clearly I missed an interesting conversation,” Chloe said, her brow arching with amusement. 

“It’s Stacie. Almost every single conversation we’ve ever had with her sounds something like that.” Beca removed her headphones altogether, placing them beside her controller before turning her full attention on Chloe. “She thinks an orgasm could trigger labor.” 

Chloe let out a low laugh. “Stacie thinks orgasms can cure cancer. But she might not be wrong about it triggering labor. The research is conflicting.” She leaned in, casting Beca a conspiratorial smirk as she tucked a stray lock of dark brown hair behind Beca’s ear. “You wanna give it a try?” 

After all these years, Beca couldn’t stop the flush spreading on her chest and cheeks when Chloe looked at her like that. She chuckled and sighed, shaking her head. “I don’t want a pity orgasm from you.” 

Chloe gasped, her hand flying to her chest in mock offense. “Pity orgasm?? What’s that even supposed to mean??”

“Chlo, look at me,” Beca said, motioning down her body. “I’m--”

“Hot,” Chloe said, definitive in her tone. “You’re hot. You’re always hot, even nine months plus three days pregnant.” 

Beca pinned Chloe with a disbelieving look, narrowing her eyes at her wife. “Oh yeah? What gets you going? All the stretch marks? The opposite-of-swag-shuffle? The tits that spill over my bra cups?” 

“Mhm,” Chloe said, twirling Beca’s hair between her fingers. “You said I was hot when I was nine months pregnant. Why can’t you believe I feel the same way?”

“Because I’m the opposite of sexy right now.”

“You’re beautiful to me.” 

“I have cankles.”

“ _Beca._ ” Chloe let out a low, empathetic chuckle, her expression softening even more. “You’re too in your head about it. I don’t wanna try to talk you into something you really don’t want to do. I know it’s been… a trickier third trimester for you than it was for me.” 

Carrying two babies in Beca’s smaller frame hadn’t been easy, that was for damn sure. But she’d been a trooper through all of it. (Well, she tried not to whine too much.) Having experienced Chloe’s pregnancy and holding their son in her arms as she fell in love with him on the spot, Beca knew the results were well worth the nine months (plus three days) of discomfort. Eye on the prize. “I’m okay. Kinda tired though.”

“Mmm… Mario Kart battles are totes draining.” Chloe grinned and wrapped her arm around Beca, gently urging her up. “Let’s get you upstairs.” 

Beca ducked her head to playfully gnaw on Chloe’s shoulder, pulling another laugh from her wife as Beca struggled to get back to her sore feet. She shuffled over to the stairs and held tight to the railing, taking the steps one at a time with Chloe protectively a step behind her. Making it to the top of the stairs felt like a win, and Beca paused halfway down the hall to peek into the cracked door to their son’s prehistoric-themed bedroom. An adoring smile twisted on Beca’s lips at the sight of the toddler passed out with his sprawling limbs tangled up in his dinosaur bed sheets, his red curls mashed into the pillow. 

With a content sigh and Chloe’s hand braced on her lower back, Beca couldn’t contain the watery smile beaming at her wife before continuing down the hall to their bedroom. (Damn hormones.)

Beca washed up for bed first, wriggling out of her shorts and groaning as she crawled into bed. She could only sleep on her side now, and even that hadn’t been super successful (the twins clearly thought Beca’s bladder was a trampoline or held dance parties around 3 AM, not giving a single shit what time it was). The body pillow helped, and Beca wrapped her arms around it to get more comfortable.

Her eyes closed before Chloe finished up in the bathroom, hand soothing circles around her stomach as she silently communicated with the babies, willing them to make their appearance sooner rather than later to give their mommy a break but more so because she couldn’t fucking _wait_ to meet them, and neither could their mama and big brother. 

The bed finally sagged from the opposite side and Beca’s smile spread at the feeling of Chloe’s warm upper half press against her back, a soft hand settle over her hip. “Hey,” Beca rasped. 

“Hey, you,” Chloe whispered in return, leaning up so she could press a quick kiss to Beca’s cheek. “Know what I was thinking about all day?”

“Mmm…” Beca thought for a moment. “What we’re gonna do if all three kids need something at the same time? Whether or not we’re gonna need a bigger house? If we can actually handle being outnumbered by tiny terrors? Or maybe--”

“I was thinking about that time you sunk your fingers inside me between our appetizer and entree course at the Olive Garden.”

Beca sucked in a sharp, startled breath and she exhaled in an airy chuckle, a blush spreading across her chest at the quickly recalled memory. (The lighting in the restaurant flickered dim enough, their circular corner booth allowing for super close proximity without it looking weird to the other patrons and staff in the packed Italian restaurant…) “Jesus, Chlo. Why--”

“You remember that, don’t you?”

How could she ever forget something so hot? Admittedly, her brain had been stuck in baby-mode lately, and the sudden scorching scene flashed before her eyes. “Um, yeah. Duh. How could I forget that?”

“You said there couldn’t be anything better than unlimited breadsticks--”

“The server was taking for-fucking-ever with the refill--”

“And I leaned over and... helped you take your mind off of it.” 

Beca shuddered, her serene smile twisting with mischief as she remembered the challenge sparkling in Chloe’s eyes back then, the din of the packed Saturday night restaurant suddenly not nearly as loud as her thunderous heartbeat when she realized her then-fiancee was only half-teasing. How Chloe took Beca’s hand beneath the white tablecloth and settled it on her knee, whispering filthy things against her ear as she dragged her hand up her smooth thigh inch by inch, slipping beneath the hemline of her dress--

“You’re thinking about it now, aren’t you?” Chloe’s voice carried huskier and Beca swore she could _feel_ Chloe’s wicked smile against her shoulder blade. 

“Yeah,” Beca croaked, licking her lips in a desperate bid to provide some moisture there. “God, that was so hot.” She remembered holding her breath as Chloe urged Beca’s hand upward, _just_ enough for Beca’s fingertips to glide over the hot slick of Chloe’s underwear. Chloe’s grip had only tightened on Beca’s wrist, holding her hand in place as the server returned with another basket of breadsticks. Chloe had beamed right up at the waiter and thanked him for the refill, requesting another round of ice waters with her typical easy smile… while Beca had flushed several shades and had broken into a cold sweat, avoiding eye contact with the server at _all_ costs.

“I super slyly popped the top button on my dress to give you a better view,” Chloe reminisced aloud, casually dancing her hand up Beca’s side. “Of my… red bra? Satin, wasn’t it?”

“Black and lacy,” Beca corrected without hesitation, picturing the entire scene as though it replayed on a projector screen beneath her closed eyelids.

“Well _excuse_ me. My bad.” A low chuckle rumbled in Chloe’s throat and she propped herself up to press a kiss to the outer shell of Beca’s ear, her words coming in a whisper next. “I remember how turned on I was in that damn booth. How your fingers felt, barely brushing over that wet patch of cotton, how that feeling shot straight up my spine.” Her tongue ran over Beca’s ear. “And you loved that view, hm?”

Beca groaned, reliving the memory of that perfect cleavage that only she could see from her vantage point, the sight of Chloe’s gorgeous breasts with nipples peaked and pebbled beneath that lace and--she gasped hard. 

As Beca relived the past, Chloe remained very present, skimming the backs of her fingernails across Beca’s arm before she _very_ gently cupped one of Beca’s extra swollen, super sensitive breasts. Her thumb circled her peaked nipple. 

“ _Shit_ , Chlo--”

Thank god for that soft, old band t-shirt because Beca was _so_ sensitive she didn’t think she could handle direct contact. “Mmm… god, that feels so fucking good.” It had been months since they’d tried any type of physical intimacy, and Beca’s body reacted without any conscious thought, craving this way more than her preoccupied brain thought she needed it. Her hold tightened on the body pillow.

“Does it?” Chloe played coy, her teeth taking Beca’s earlobe and nibbling. “As good as how your fingers felt on me beneath that able that night?” 

Just like that, Chloe’s question once again transported Beca’s brain right back into that Olive Garden booth, trying desperately to keep her cool as she stroked Chloe’s sopping slit through that thin layer of sticky fabric after almost getting caught by the waiter.

“Do you remember, Bec? Do you remember how good it felt to touch me? How hot I was for you? How I _couldn’t_ wait ‘til after dinner?”

“Yeah.” Beca’s voice broke on that single syllable. She remembered how intoxicating it had been, teasing her fingertips with barely-there pressure until Chloe’s hips quested for more, surging forward despite the odd seated angle on that pleather-like seat.

While Beca continued losing herself in that flashback fantasy, Chloe’s hand retreated from Beca’s engorged breast and slid to her ass, giving one cheek an appreciative knead before trailing lower, _her_ fingertips skirting feather-light between Beca’s legs from behind, a soft mewl emitting from Beca’s lips as she realized just how wet she was. “Oh my god, Beca.” She didn’t waste time, tugging the fabric aside to slick her fingers through Beca’s puffy lower lips. God, she was swollen _everywhere_ , and it turned Chloe on to end. “You feel incredible.” 

Beca whimpered, arching back into Chloe as best as she could, exhaling in a reverent, choked sob, emitting the same broken plea that had been on Chloe’s lips in the restaurant years ago. 

_“Don’t stop. Please, baby.”_

As Beca clutched the body pillow so tightly her knuckles whitened, she arched back against Chloe and her eyes popped open in startled surprise. “Oh, _shit_. Is that--” 

“Yes.” Unbeknownst to Beca, Chloe pulled on the tight RodeoH briefs that doubled as a harness before crawling into bed (She loved to be prepared whenever possible!), and the head of that flesh-colored dildo pressed urgently against her ass cheek. “We don’t have to, if you think it’ll be too much for--”

“No, I’m--” Beca reached back over her head to thread her fingers through Chloe’s hair, unable to shake the vision of Chloe gyrating impatient hips into her hand beneath the table cloth until she begged for more.

 _“I need you inside me. Right now.”_

As Beca repeated Chloe’s fractured wish, palpable on her tongue despite it being a years-old recollection, Chloe’s hand left her to no doubt coat the toy with her essence. Half a beat later, its bulbous head positioned at Beca’s entrance and Chloe stilled so Beca could rock backward, setting her own pace as she took Chloe’s length inside her quivering heat centimeter by centimeter in a slow, satisfying press. 

It was Chloe’s turn to whimper as she squeezed Beca’s hip in a desperate attempt to ground herself; the base of that dildo was uniquely designed to stimulate its wearer, and its shape sparked a toe-curling jolt against Chloe’s clit with each thrust as Beca arched back against her, reacquainting herself with the sensation of being completely filled once again. 

For a few precious minutes, while Beca adjusted and found her rhythm in her differently shaped body, the only sounds passing between Beca and Chloe were the sharp, pressured puffs of labored breathing peppered with gasps, partially muffled moans, and the occasional pleading whimper.

“Bec--” Chloe’s grip tightened on Beca’s hip and she pressed closer, taking more control by rolling her hips in counter.

“You feel so good, baby. Missed you--so fucking much,” Beca rasped, twisting her upper half as best as she could to crane her neck around and meet Chloe’s lips in a breathy, punctured kiss. “S’it good for you, too?”

Chloe’s head jerked in a tight, almost frantic nod. “So--so damn good. Holy shit.” 

Beca’s eyes slammed shut once again as Chloe picked up the pace, thrusting harder and deeper inside of her. It bordered on too much--skirting that pleasure-pain line that Beca loved riding when she had the chance, and visions once again swirled in front of her closed lids of sinking two fingers knuckle-deep inside Chloe behind their half-killed bottle of wine and untouched bottomless salad and fresh order of breadsticks. How Chloe had leaned forward with both elbows on the table and bit down on her own knuckle as her inner walls clenched around Beca’s pumping fingers, tighter and tighter until--

“ _Becs. Beca I’m so close,_ ” Chloe cried, both in her vivid-as-fuck memory _and_ hot and real and _present_ against her ear. 

The combination proved too much for Beca to process and she felt herself barreling toward a cliffside with no desire to pump the breaks. “Me too, Chlo, I’m--” Beca somehow had the presence of mind to bury her face into her body pillow, muffling her own cry that, unrestrained, definitely would’ve carried down the hall. The broken noise carried extra loud anyway, due to Chloe sinking her teeth into Beca’s shoulder as she came at the same time, hips pistoning with an erratic desperation as she rode the waves of her climax while coaxing Beca through hers, too. 

Together, they slumped against their pillows, working to catch their breaths and steady their heart rates while chuckling with disbelief. 

“God, I needed that,” Beca moaned, an exhausted cat-that-got-the-canary grin plastered on her flushed face. 

“Me too,” Chloe breathed, peppering Beca’s shoulder blade with softer kisses. “That was so damn hot. You’re so hot, Becs.”

Beca huffed a laugh, reaching to Chloe’s hand on her hip to thread their fingers together and offer a squeeze. “Thanks for that. You’re the fucking best.”

“Good thing you married me, _Bow-chicka Bowser_ ,” Chloe teased with a wink.

Beca snickered. “Oh my god, you nerd.” She hissed at the feeling of Chloe slipping out of her, but Chloe pressed a few additional sloppy kisses to her back before rolling away to no doubt slip out of that strap-on and into something more comfortable. 

“Need anything while I’m up?” she asked, padding to her underwear drawer. 

“Nope. Jus’ you. Hurry back. Needa snuggle,” Beca mumbled, slipping toward sleep as soon as Chloe once again joined her in bed and spooned her from behind. She was too far gone to process words when Chloe whispered a sheepish, “ _Oh no, I left your ice cream on the coffee table…_ ” before she drifted into slumber, too sated to do anything about it now.

Beca woke three hours later with her bladder fit to bursting--the organ clearly serving as a beat pad for the two fetal DJs co-producing a mashup in her uterus. Carefully lifting Chloe’s arm from its protective hold around her middle, Beca shifted to sit up, swing her legs over the side of the bed, and slowly shift weight onto her feet. 

She made it four cautious steps on achy feet toward the bathroom before she doubled over, gripping the bedpost and grimacing as a rush of warm liquid soaked her inner thighs. “Oh--holy shit,” Beca croaked, her voice thick with sleep as a sudden spark of terror shot up her spine. 

Her water broke. 

She forced a deep, shaky breath. _One step at a time. Wake up your wife._

“Chlo--” Beca cleared her throat and reached across the bed to squeeze Chloe’s foot through the blankets. “Baby, wake up.”

Chloe blinked awake and squinted at Beca in the darkness, reaching behind her to turn on her bedside lamp. “Bec? Whassamatter?” 

“My water broke,” Beca breathed, an anxious laugh echoing strained into the air between them. “I, um--okay. We should--”

“Get to the hospital.” A rush of excited energy hit Chloe as though the briefest bout of shock wore off and she bounced across the bed, pulling Beca into her arms and pressing a few kisses to her cheek. “Oh my god, we’re gonna meet our babies _so soon_!” She jumped in place and pulled another chuckle from Beca, who took a moment to nuzzle into her wife as a frisson of excited fear shot through her. “You’re gonna be amazing. I know it. And I’ll be with you every step of the way like you were for me, okay? I promise.”

Beca let those words sink in and she nodded. “We should put some real clothes on,” she said, taking Chloe’s hand and leading her toward the closet, where they both pulled on comfy yoga pants, bras, and sweaters. 

After Chloe hurried to dress, she snatched up her phone from her bedside table and frantically started texting. 

Beca took hold of the backpack she’d prepared and slung it over her shoulder, blinking in confusion at Chloe. “What’re you--”

“Group texting the girls! One of them needs to get their butt over here to sit for Carter so we can leave--”

“Leave Stacie off that text!” Beca pleaded.

“What?” Chloe’s thumbs hovered over her keyboard and she quirked a brow at Beca.

“She can’t know she was right. She’ll never let me live it down.”

“ _Beca_.” Chloe shot her a look, her eyes crinkling with amusement. “She’s gonna know anyway, baby. What’re you gonna do, hold those babies in an extra day…?”

With a heavy sigh, Beca relented. “Fine.” Losing a bet to Stacie probably shouldn’t be her focus in the moment, but it was less terrifying than this finally, _actually_ happening.

Less than a minute after Chloe fired off the text, Emily responded with a million spazzing out emojis, and Aubrey’s text read “Be there in 15!!!” 

“So she’ll be here by the time we get you downstairs,” Chloe teased, still buzzing with palpable energy as she returned to Beca’s side and slipped an arm around her lower back, ushering her out of the room. 

“It’ll give you a chance to clean up that melted ice cream,” Beca reminded her, lacing their fingers and casting another nervous glance at her steadfast wife. 

At the top of the stairs, Chloe braced her free hand on Beca’s cheek, capturing her lips in a languid, tender kiss, hoping to reassure Beca even more with the loving gesture. 

They’d have to remember to thank Stacie later. 

After they met the rest of their family.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Reviews are always greatly appreciated. Connect with me on Tumblr @ icarli. :D


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